


What could describe us?

by orphan_account



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Dictionary Format, M/M, based on the lovers dictionary by david leviathan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Empathy, n.<br/>Something I never had.<br/>( Written from Virus's pov to Trip. I promise it's a really cool format !! Partly inspired by the Lover's Dictionary by David Leviathan! )</p>
            </blockquote>





	What could describe us?

**Addled, adj.**

It’s hard to look at you. I’ve bonded with you, I care, and it’s scary, I’ve never been this voluntarily vulnerable before and I know somehow this will all backfire. Everything that could go wrong so far has, and I’m terrified of what you could do. You could reveal you hate me, or that you were dying, or you could leave without so much as a farewell.

 

**Dancing, v.**

Our mornings are radically different. You spend yours dancing around in your pajamas to classic rock, eating sugary pastries that you probably shouldn’t, while mine are spent fussing over how our pancakes are never quite right, or about how the toaster is so inconsistent. Never the less, both of us sit down eating the food I had obsessed about making sure was perfect, though you treat your fork like a shovel while I treat mine as if it was made of porcelain.

 

 **Dissonance, n.**  
  
Sometimes we argue, we scream and throw things, but I think you’ve grown used to the sound of shattering glass at this point. I don’t mean to- it’s just sometimes, sometimes I think I want to strangle you because of the arguments we’ll get into. I never have the guts to swallow my pride and say this outloud but: I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

 

**Drowning, v.**

I’m not sure when I stopped breathing. At one point I decided all that came out of friendships and relationships was pain, suffering, and decided I didn’t want to be hurt anymore. I started to read and isolate myself- humans were pathetic and I decided I wasn’t one, I wasn’t a pig like them. I was above them, somehow, I was better. You made me realize I was human, I was just as pathetic as them.

 

**Eulogy, n.**

You say all the time that we are only strangers. You never tell this to me, you tell this to others, that we aren’t friends, or lovers, just two sociopaths who happen to compliment each other. While we hide in the ebony cloak of night, while you sleep and I pretend to, I wonder if you’ll care when I die. After all, how does a stranger mourn another stranger? They don’t.

 

**Extraneous adj.**

Do you remember, how we grew up together? About how our parents had both abandoned us and gave us to those scientists and doctors for their sick tests on the human psyche. We grew up objects, barcodes and nothing more than a set of numbers. We didn’t escape until we were seventeen, well, we escaped from those bleach infested halls physically but I never escaped mentally. Growing up, our feelings were unneeded, and mine still are.

 

**Familiarity, n.**

I don’t mind when you sing in the shower anymore. Or when you demand one restaurant over another, when you leave out the ingredients for whatever confection you had abandoned trying to cook on the counter, even your flour flavored kisses are tolerated now. When I have to leave on business, often times I’m found with too much time on my hands, since most of my time is spent cleaning up after you.

 

**Idol, n.**

You only made me more comfortable in my narcissism, you made me a God in your eyes, you beat people up if they even talked about me in anyway but praise (though they never did praise me), and you contributed towards my god complex. I don’t know whether to thank you or hate you.

 

**Love, n.**

I thought it was them, those scientists and those tests they did on us as children, that made me hate the word. Maybe it was you- love is disgusting and pathetic, it makes one weak, and dear God I’ve fallen into a pit of love because of you. We say it all the time, that we love each other, and it makes spiders flock onto my skin to crawl up my spine. While we are lying in silk sheets, our limbs entangled, I can’t help but wonder- is it possible that you have tumbled into loving me like I have for you? I hope not.

 

**Paranoid, adj.**

Me and Stalin have a lot in common. We both avoid carpeted floors so that we can hear someone sneaking up behind us, we both check mirrors to make sure they aren’t doublesided, hell, we both even semi camouflaged our houses. Although he was smart and didn’t get half intoxicated every night to sleep, he didn’t ever feel for anyone. Then again, he never had one of his eyes ripped out of his skull in “the pursuit of science”, did he?

  
  


**Portrayal, n.**

I wondered in my youth why portrayal sounded so close to betrayal. I thought it coincidence, but something in my head of morphine induced fantasies always told me they were alike, that they were connected. I now know chance is something to not be messed with, that coincidence doesn’t exist, and that betrayal and portrayal are the same in the sense that you betray your own feelings or another human in order to portray someone or something else.

I guess this word is associated with us a lot then, huh?

 

**Slipping, v.**

“You seem down.”

“Well considering I burned all of my bridges and cut ties with everyone I’ve known- bar you-, I feel like that's a safe conclusion.”

 

**Whimpering, v.**

You told me today you can hear when I have a nightmare.

 

**Xenon, n.**

I figured out why they say falling in love, not floating or levitating, no, they say falling because there is always an end. It always hurts, the ground is harsh and cold and jagged- love always ends. It must’ve been my god-complex, making me a fool in believing that our love was exempt. But when I saw your body- beaten and bruised, lifeless and limp, I realized that I had hit the ground.

  
And it hurt more than I’d imagined.


End file.
